


A Rose for my Love

by BeforeDawn



Series: Roses for my goodbye lover [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 04:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11501634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeforeDawn/pseuds/BeforeDawn
Summary: Having separate chambers was something abandoned the second year into his rule and they now shared a single living space – his armour rested on the chair opposite the fire, her mage robes lying on the floor after he had tugged it off her at the end of his long day, desperate to get the familiar feeling of their skin touching each other. Other various trinkets lay throughout the room, her hairbrush on the vanity, his mother's locket hanging by the mirror.  It was perfect. It was theirs. It was home.She did not want to leave it. She did not want to leavehim.





	A Rose for my Love

He’s asleep.

When he’s sleeping, the burden of being king has lifted and the boyish face of the Grey Warden she fell in love with returns. He’s peaceful, serene and in the dark hours of the night, he is hers. She shifts, gently though not to wake him, and exits the bed feeling the cold air of the room hit her naked form, the embers of the fire had been long forgotten about in the throes of their passion.

Alistair was King and she his mistress, not being able to take the form of his queen due to her heritage, but somehow, despite all the jibes from those who did not approve of the relationship, that the King should marry and have heirs, that this cannot continue, he had a duty to uphold and this was certainly not what a king should be doing, they had been happy. Happier than they had any right to be. He was hers and she was his, for something that should have been more complicated, it was simple - at least to them. Having separate chambers was something abandoned the second year into his rule and they now shared a single living space – his armour rested on the chair opposite the fire, her mage robes lying on the floor after he had tugged it off her at the end of his long day, desperate to get the familiar feeling of their skin touching each other. Other various trinkets lay throughout the room, her hairbrush on the vanity, his mother's locket hanging by the mirror. It was perfect. It was theirs. It was home.

She did not want to leave it. She did not want to leave _him._

Yet she has to, she has to find the cure. It could save all the Grey Wardens, it could save them. He does not know of the beautifully haunting song that plagues her every waking moment, she’d lied, said she had not been in Orlais when everyone started hearing the calling, he has enough to worry about with a Kingdom resting on his shoulders without having to worry about her as well. She cannot tell him of her quest, he will tell her not to go or will insist on coming with her. But she has to go and the Kingdom needs him, so she decided not to tell him, she decided to leave him in the dead of night. Tonight was that night.

As she pulls her robes back on, she looks back at him, her heart feeling heavy as she watches him sleep. In this moment, she longs to abandon her quest and crawl back into bed beside him, into the comforting warmth that she knows his arms offer, how he’ll sleepy kiss the top of her head and then squeeze her tightly before falling back to sleep. It was a routine that she was all too familiar with and her heart ached at the thought of giving it up. Of giving him up.

Leaving at night seemed easier, not having to face the sorrow in his eyes when she told him she wouldn't be home for Maker knows how long and he would know whatever excuse she was telling him for being gone was a lie. He knew her too well, he would see the lie in her eyes. She hated it and had gone round in circles in her own head about going or staying with him, in the comfort of routine when she was home from the occasional missions she found herself on, in the first true home she had ever known. But in the end, she realised that she had to go, this was much bigger than just the two of them. This was for their friends, those who had already heard their siren song and those who were about to. This was not a choice, this was a necessity.

She approaches the bed once more and her fingers ghost over his face, trying to commit as much of him as possible to memory. This mission may well be the end of her, it's barely a lead she has - but she has to follow it, it's all she's got - but if this can save him, give him a life, then it will be worth it. Very gently, she places a rose on the pillow that's hers, still a dent in it from where her head lay moments before, from where she had slept for years. It's a symbol of her love, but it's also more. He'd once told her that he'd found something so beautiful existing in a place of so much despair. He'd told her that the rose reminded him of her.

Now she places a rose because in the coming months, filled with despair and frustrating dead ends - when she feels all is lost and wants to give up, she'll think of the beauty that is him and she'll keep going. He'll be her beacon in the dark. She does not leave a note, knowing an apology or some vague explanation will not be enough, that there's nothing she can possibly say that will soothe the ache in his heart that the separation will cause.

Grabbing her staff from the corner next to the door, she glances back at him one more time, the urge to climb back into bed beside him claiming her once again. Suppressing a sob, she leaves the room and enters into the unknown.

**Author's Note:**

> My first posted fic - unbetaed so there may be some errors, constructive critisms are welcomed. Hope you enjoyed.


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